


Wake the Sea of Silent Hope

by Renfields_Spider



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 08:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10613427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renfields_Spider/pseuds/Renfields_Spider
Summary: Spoilers for ME3 - Kaidan explores his doubts and reconnection with Shepard. Is Shepard the man he knew two years ago? Can Kaidan put his doubts to bed and acknowledge how he actually feels. Does Shepard feel the same way? Paragade. mShep/Kaidan.





	1. Chapter 1

** Wake the sea of silent hope **

I

Have wondered about you

Where will you be

When this is through?

-Faunts _M4 Part II_

 

I sat in that escape pod, every part of me screaming ‘I shouldn’t have left’. My epiphany came; too late in the form of an ice cold, gut-wrench, as I watched the Normandy explode. I felt sick. I felt anger beyond apoplexy.

I had dreams about boarding that pod, horrific nightmarish visions of all the ways in which I could imagine Shepard dying. Sometimes he burned screaming from the other side of the pod, another time I saw him fall into space, helpless against the forces, which propelled him into the atmosphere of the planet nearby. In the dreams, I could remember the smell of burning flesh and ozone. I recalled my fear. But nothing, nothing made me feel worse than dreaming I’d saved him, only to wake up and realise I hadn’t. I’d take the 3am cold sweats and palpitations than that false reality I’d dream for myself.

Shepard died. And so did I for a while. I blamed myself, not for the Collectors, but for not speaking up when I thought he was wrong. If I’d stayed, I would’ve probably died too. I created this version of myself to function, to carry on regardless, but it was a false illusion of the man I used to be.

I grieved for the loss of a great leader, soldier and friend… sure. But I mutely mourned for the death of hope. I refused to see clearly, before he died and as I watched the hunks of scoured and burnt Normandy fall like a rain of fire; I knew I loved him. He was dead. I would never be able to tell him how I felt. And now my smallest light of hope was snuffed out before it had a chance to grow.

What could I do?

I pretended to be Kaiden; I acted the part I was supposed to play. And after a while the role stopped being fake and I began to lighten.  
  
Horizon. That fucked me. I mean, I just couldn’t deal with it. I’d spent time with Shepard fighting Cerberus and discovered after just how horrific their shit went. To discover Cerberus had resurrected him was akin to the devil bringing back Jesus. I was so angry. I was so concerned. What had they done to him? Was he really Shepard?

After that day, I tormented myself with all those juvenile fantasies I’d had of Shepard coming back from the dead somehow, and I said all those things I needed to say.  In reality, I’d bitched at him, questioned him. I openly doubted him. I feel sick to the pit of my stomach every time I recall the look on his face when I’d doubted his loyalty.  


I typically avoided the subject and buried myself in the job. Sometimes, on the dark days I secretly, deep inside, wanted to die too. I even tried to justify those thoughts with some concept of valour, rather than the cowardice I was actually feeling. Denial and I were great friends. And it did work for a while; until Shepard killed those Batarians. I knew where he was incarcerated and thought about visiting, but something always came up… I made sure.

Now I am here, laying in a hospital on the Citadel, knowing I owe my life to Shepard. As I lay here, battered, I realised that despite the drugs: I feel alive.

I remember the doubts creeping in like the wicked dark bugs they are and I replay the same stupid questions as I had done on Horizon. The problem is mine you see; I’ve woken up one too many times from those false dreams where he is alive. I remember how it feels, like a punch to the gut, every time you realise it’s all a dream. That sucker punch feeling dogs you for days; dragging up the grief while I ride the wake of abject disappointment. I refused to allow myself to believe Shepard is Shepard, or at least the man I remember. The man I loved wouldn’t work for Cerberus would he? Would he? No, I won’t allow everything, friendship, the job or anything else cloud reality… not until I know for sure.

Unless… unless.

What if he is and always has been Shepard?

This is a worse thought for me; that my shit has prevented me from helping him. I could’ve helped, but doubted his integrity and judgement. Those insidious dark thoughts torment me, they eat at the very real joy I felt, fighting at his side again. Hearing him, speaking to him, and God help me… waking the silent sea of hope within me.


	2. Chapter 2

If all goes as planned

Will you redeem

My life again?

 

-Faunts _M4 Part II_

 

Huerta has very little in the way of patient entertainment, the view is exceptional, but even the majesty of the Citadel quells when you know you’re sitting on your ass while people are dying. That curving horizon only brings back memories of Saren and the white knuckle ride we’d had defeating him. And those were the easy days. At least the vista was open. Ever since I came out of that collector attack alive, enclosed spaces, like escape pods make me uncomfortable. Not claustrophobic or anything like that; just very aware of the lack of space. I’m sure it’s not the memories those confined feelings bring with it.

I remember having a conversation with Joker a few hours after we were picked up by the Alliance. He asked me about survivor’s guilt, didn’t crack a one liner or smirk, just spoke quietly. I realised he thought I blamed him, as he blamed himself, for Shepard dying, and for a moment or two, I did. But I was angry at Shepard for being a blasted martyr. Survivor’s guilt can kill the person saved, long after the events have passed. Thinking you could have died, is very different from knowing you should have died. I understood when Joker left the Alliance and followed Shepard, joining Cerberus was incidental, Jeff wanted to fly, and being a graceful, soaring bastard was important to the physically challenged pilot. But Joker left Cerberus without a glance backwards when Shepard was incarcerated, like the debt of a life connected them and, I guess, it will connect them forever – however long that is.

Now, I owed him again. Have I lost count how many times he’s saved my ass? No, but there’s a difference between knowing he’d got my back and we’ve scraped through, again, with him choosing my life over someone else’s. I’ve never forgotten that he picked me to live over Ashley. I should have died. I wanted to feel guilty for surviving, but truth is I felt guilty for wanting to live. I was glad Shepard chose me. Don’t get me wrong, I would have died for him, orders are orders. I just… didn’t want to die.

When that thing, Dr. Eva, started to smash my skull against the shuttle, I could only think one thing: I don’t want to die. I could hear Shepard screaming my name and it only highlighted how desperately I wanted to live. I hadn’t finished what I had set out to do; defeat the reapers, save lives etc. I only saw the future things I hadn’t done, which seemed so desperately unfair. When I woke up, I was pleasantly surprised to discover I’d survived. The pain I was in only reinforced depth to that feeling; had to be alive in the first place to feel it. I knew he’d saved me, I didn’t have to be told.

How could I doubt him?

I feel I’ve misunderstood him, wronged him with my questions, but the questions won’t stop burbling up from inside. I feel the questions are a dam; keeping the silent sea at bay. When the questions are gone, what then? That is genuinely frightening.

I know he’s coming to see me soon, I got a message via the extranet saying as much. It was brief. I’m not sure if the brevity is because he’s busy or pissed at me, or both. I know one thing, I’m not going to waste moments to speak to him like I did before. Every time I’ve had the chance to clear the air, I’ve attacked him, so this time I will make sure I set everything straight. That way if I die or he dies, I’ll have said my piece. Of course, I won’t be telling him everything, I just need to know that things are ok between us. If they aren’t… well, I’m going to make sure they are, no alternative.

***

I really wish Udina would go away. Is it not enough to send me messages; does he have to come here in person to restate what he has already said in digital form? It’s not that I’m not honoured, of course I am… being a Spectre is a big deal. But I need to look Shepard in the eye and see if he feels I am up to the task; that’s the only input I require. Plus, I have never forgotten the shoddy way he treated Anderson and Shepard before, and like a typical Politian he acts like none of it happened. I remember.

Then as Udina is breathing in for another round of ‘convincing’ the doors slide apart and Shepard appears. I feel my stomach lurch, my pulse quickens, but no one notices because Udina and Shepard are looking at each other, guardedly. This suits me and I settle down in my bed, which all of a sudden is the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever had the misfortune to lay on.

The first thing I notice about Shepard is the weariness. I remember how relentless he was in finding and defeating Saren, but this was a completely new level of tired. He’d lost weight too; not anything significant, but enough to make him look less than his usual healthy self. But then I remember: he died.

We talk for a while, clear some things up and I finally set things on a better path with him. I feel things lighten between us and it’s good. I’m grateful for another chance to actually say I what I needed to say instead of wasting it. He calls me Major, gives me a bottle, and asks all the right questions. I take the opportunity to ask a few of my own.

“What are the reports like, from Earth?” I ask, knowing it won’t be good and his pause before replying is all the answer I need.

“It’s not good, but Anderson is surviving, so are others,” Shepard’s eyes flick over me to the vista beyond, “Palaven is falling too.”

“I’ve heard the doctors talking about an attack, I had no idea it was as bad as Earth.”

“It’s terrible, but we have to carry on no matter how many planets fall, no choice,” Shepard looks back to me and changes the subject, clearly not wanting to dwell on the starkness of reality. “Vega insists he can smell victory already; it’s just Cortez’s cooking is so bad no one else can smell it yet.”

I can’t help but laugh. It seems that’s what Shepard intended as his eyes light a little and changes the outlook of his face for a moment. Then Shepard asks, “Do you think you’ll accept? Being a Spectre, I mean.” There’s little doubt in his question, but I suspect he wants to know something more than the question itself.

“I’ll accept and hopefully be able to use it to save some lives. Maybe even get to smell some victory with Vega. I don’t know what Udina has in mind for me; I guess I’ll have to wait and see.” I see a furrow in his brow and then he nods like that’s what he expected.

“I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather call a fellow Spectre,” he smiles slightly, “Although, I warn you, the pay is rubbish, the council probably won’t heed your advice and you’ll go through a ridiculous amount of armour.”

There’s more to it than that though, it’s like he doesn’t want me to accept and I’m not sure why. He seems to sense my confusion as he adds, “Kaidan, just be careful… I’m losing people thick and fast out there.”

“If you think I can’t handle it-” he cuts me off.

“Of course, I think you can handle it, that’s the point, Major. I know you’ll go that extra mile.”

“Yeah, I see your point, but I think the overall idea of being a Spectre is to survive your missions, otherwise it will be the shortest career of a Spectre ever. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be jumping on the suicide mission bus anytime soon, is it?” I gesture to my messed up face and hope he takes the suicide mission statement, not as a dig, but a reminder that I do know what it has cost him - what it continues to cost him - to get here. I like that he is concerned about me though, gives me a tiny thrill despite the subject.

“Well, Major, you’d have to get better to board that bus,” he smiles again to lighten the comment. “Now, I have to go back to the Normandy and tell Garrus he’s still the most scarred person on the ship. He expressly said, he couldn’t have you outdoing his roguish, battle-scarred charm with the females. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

He lingers as I say my goodbye, laughing, he nods and departs before I can think to say anything else. He doesn’t look back; I was hoping he would.

***

It’s not until later I find out Shepard was asking the doctors when I’d be fit for duty, not if, but how long. I know he’s happy I’m going to be a Spectre, but I had hoped he’d ask me to serve on the Normandy, but he didn’t. I can’t help but wonder if that’s because I questioned him all those time, or because I refused him back on Horizon. Those damn doubts crawling back in; when he’s here, I hardly think of them, but alone, it seems I have too much time to think about it.

There are other thoughts roaming around my head like restless marbles; they are more pleasant. I think over the conversation we had, remembering every glance, every time he patted my arm or brushed my hand accidentally with his. Recalling these moments add fuel to the embers looking for ignition inside; they really don’t need much encouragement. I remember the adrenalin I felt on Mars, fighting with Shepard had brought so much back. But just sitting, talking, his sole focus on me was exhilarating. Perhaps I am being selfish, enjoying the company of this man in a way he’ll never see me, but there seems little light left in the galaxy, so I guess I’ll find the sparks where I can.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Fight your foes, you're not alone

 

-Faunts _M4 Part II_

 

Since seeing Shepard, I’ve cleared my mind and tried to focus where I’m heading. I thought I knew, but recent news has had me thinking differently. There’s a specialist here that is fascinated by my implant, she’s taken the opportunity to study it while I’ve been stuck in Huerta, I didn’t mind, I kinda liked the distraction. She came to me the other day, looking grim.

“Major, I’ve been looking at these scans, and comparing them with the medical files the Alliance recently sent.” She watches me and I know whatever she’s about to say, I’m not going to like it.

“Just be to the point, I’m a big boy, Doctor.”

She smiles and perches on the end of my bed. “Your implant is causing neural decay, that is to say you are losing higher brain function. You probably haven’t noticed any symptoms, we’ve caught it early and can probably reverse the damage.”

I nod, not really surprised, having seen others with the L2 suffer something similar. “Ok. How do we reverse the damage?”

She seems shocked I don’t know the answer to my own questions, but she replies, “We remove the implant, Major.”

“You mean no Biotics?”

“Yes.”

“No. No way.” I shake my head and glare like it’s her fault.

“Major, the decay will get worse. It’s degenerative, but still reversible at this stage.” The way she says that, it’s like it’s the most reasonable thing in her mind.

“How quickly is it deteriorating?”

“It’s hard to say without regular checks, but something caused your implant to start harming the tissue surrounding. Maybe a concussion a few years back? Either way the longer it stays in the more permanent the damage, but I’ve seen people unable to write their own names within a year…” She keeps talking, but my mind has drifted back to Eden Prime. I remember how the Prothean beacon touched my mind briefly before Shepard saved me from being frazzled. The migraines did get worse and then levelled out after a while. Just another thing Shepard has saved me from.

“A year you say? Well we might not have a year to survive as a species and I know for a fact I will be damn more effective with an implant than without. I understand your concerns, but, respectfully… please lose that file.” She blinks and looks at the data pad in her hands. She looks pissed, but then she surprises me by deleting the image on her display. The way she looks at me frightens me a little, as if I’m dead already.

“Hope is still alive, Doc. When I’m made a Spectre, I’ll be giving people some of that hope, but I’m probably not going to see the end of this war. So, save your medicine and expertise for those that really need it.”

She doesn’t say anything else and leaves. Was I too harsh or not harsh enough? There is no way in hell I am taking out my implant just before the eve of war. I’m not even worried about it, Christ, it’s nothing.  Then I see, with a clarity I’ve never had before, that I don’t have a future. It is a cold and brilliantly pure thought, isolated, and so very primitive. No matter the outcome to this war; I see the yawning abyss spread out in front of me in one form or another. It’s freeing; it’s like I’m released from life, but free to live.

I start to think about my parents and how much I love them, but I know I can’t do anything for them, other than defeat the Reapers. With Shepard, preferably. If not, then without, as a Spectre. I start seeing the unfinished aspects of my life and I wonder how I can resolve them. I think of my Spec Ops team and how they got me through the last years after Shepard. I owe them too. I feel a responsibility for my former students; wherever they are. I’m also in debt to Shepard in a way I can never satisfactorily repay. I know if Shepard asks me, I will be on the Normandy in a heartbeat, but I realise I need to become the Spectre Udina wants, play the ‘Puppet of Hope’ role.

I need to stop clouding my mind with Shepard, appropriate and inappropriate thoughts aside: duty first. Huh, yeah, like it’s that easy.

The Doctor is nearly ready to let me out; though I sense her dragging it out as long as she can, maybe I’ll change my mind about the implant. I get it, she’s doing her job, but so am I. I’d rather be shot having the implant than getting shot because I didn’t. It’s really that simple.

I heard the Normandy is docked, so I’ve showered, made myself presentable. The Doctor gave me some pain meds to take with me when I leave, some are subtle, others are a lot stronger. I haven’t taken any. I want my mind as clear as I can get it, I don’t need the fug of drugs hindering me until I have no choice. I’m hoping Shepard will come by as well.

It is crazy, that in this terrible, terrible dilemma we’ve all been caught in, I still find time to have butterflies in my gut because Shepard might appear. And it is as I look out of the window that I hear the doors open behind me; my stomach clenches in anticipation of what my eyes have yet to confirm. I do what all teenagers do; I deflect with humour to cover my discomfort.

“If you came to spring me, you’re late. They’re letting me out soon.” Shepard smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He congratulates me on accepting Udina’s offer, but it was just a formality. We discuss the ceremony, Udina’s bull etc. Then Shepard says something that catches me unawares.

“On Eden Prime I could see there was something special about you,” then he adds, “You’re a great soldier.” He looks me in the eyes as he says it; I’m unable to hide my surprise. I was unaware he thought anything remotely like that about my skills. It was good to hear that from someone I respect so much. It was encouraging.

Shepard crosses his arms over his chest as he tells me the Normandy is there when I’m ready. I do not fail to notice this piece of schoolyard psychology; he crosses his arms to create a barrier, a defence… against me? I don’t understand. I tell him I’ve been thinking about it, but want to find my Spec Ops crew and get the pomp and ceremony of becoming a Spectre over. Udina gets what he wants that way and I get some time to wonder at Shepard.

And I do wonder…  
  
Why is he so defensive? I sit for a while holding the bottle he gave on his first visit; I don’t recall him being so defensive before. Those dark thoughts once again permeate my mind, as I gaze outward with my eyes and inward with my mind. You’re never truly alone with paranoia. Those wisps of negative cognitive thinking are like winter trees, branches of thought are harsh, barren, and fruitless. They serve no purpose other than to have me chasing my own tail.

I dream that night, of three roads before me, and Shepard is running down them all. He wants me to follow, but I don’t know which path to pick, I’m paralysed with indecision. And then I’m awake, sweating with my heart racing. I understand at last. I don’t have to choose, Shepard will choose for me. Simple. I see now, his defence was only at being refused, like I did on Horizon, like I questioned on Mars. God, why didn’t I see that before. Maybe the implant… No! No. That was the easy way out, blaming the implant. For fucks sake Kaidan, maybe you just are that dense sometimes. I smile at my self-insult and conclude that talking to myself was probably sane… probably.

I settle back down to sleep and woke up surprised that I actually got some. I’m glad I did, because if I had known what the following day would bring, I wouldn’t have slept at all. No, if I had known how close I came… it just doesn’t bear thinking about. This war, is a head fuck of immense proportions.


	4. Chapter 4

The bleeding loss of blood runs cold

 

-Faunts _M4 Part II_

 

 

I’m running down the promenade in the Presidium; I can hear shouting, some in languages I don’t understand. But the screaming, that crosses the multilingual barrier, I understand it. Those screams pierce me at the very core of my being, they are primal, they are final.  I don’t know what’s happening at first. I assumed the Reapers. But as I run towards the edge of the bridge that crosses over the water, I saw. Cerberus. They were killing people in swathes… gunning them down like cattle.

Cerberus, the three headed dog that guards the gateway to Hades and the underworld; I’ve always wondered why the Illusive Man chose that particular motif. Three heads, one to see the past, one to see the present, and one to see the future. Yup, if it looks like an arrogant dictator with a God complex, smells like an arrogant dictator… Does the Illusive man really believe he is guarding the future of humanity? How can you guard humanity, by removing those aspects, which define us. When I think of those soulless Husk/Human troops on Mars, I shudder. For me, removal of autonomy is a step too far. Hell, it’s not one step is it… it’s a sprint, and you never get to look back at what you’ve left behind. I think he chose the wrong Symbol. All I see is a man who saw fit to decide the fates of billions, who effectively would see every other race die for Humanity. There was a being once, who was jealous of Human souls and saw fit to rebel against his superiors, believing that he was the better. His high standing was torn from him and he was cast out, to spend the rest of his days, tempting, tricking, tormenting and capturing the souls of the weak and unfortunate, to create an army. The irony being, he never had a soul of his own. I don’t know about you, but that sounds God damn familiar to me.

My thoughts came quick and fast. I concluded they’d come to take the Citadel. I looked at the people below and tried to give them enough covering fire to run. It wasn’t enough. I took cover by the wall and tried to form a plan. I knew what I had to do, but that didn’t make getting up and doing it any easier. I had a duty to protect the Council; I needed to find them now.  But I could still hear the sounds of people dying below me. God, why was this so fucking hard? I got up and ran; I didn’t look back. I felt sick. Was I doing the right thing?

As soon as I found the Council I knew we were in for a rough ride and I had to get them out of here. I had no idea where the Salarian diplomat was and while I tried hard to find him, I couldn’t risk the three remaining members of the Council to find him. I took a circumvented route to the shuttle Udina said was available, not really wanting to be out in the open. Trouble hit us in the elevator and I took pot shots above me to warn off the Cerberus troops. To our dismay the shuttle had been destroyed, we had no alternative but to turn around and take out chances with the elevator.

When Shepard walked out of the elevator, I didn’t know what to think. He had his gun drawn and he walked out with purpose.

It was easy to kill the Reapers forces, they were soulless husks of the beings they once were, they had no families, no husbands or wives, no desire or drive. They were just the indoctrinated agents of our cultural destruction. So when you are confronted with a living, free willed being at the other end of your weapon, it should give you pause for thought. You should pause - if you can, if you’re given the choice - for thought.

I had Shepard lined up in my sights. My thoughts, black eddies of suffocating confusion and doubt. Betrayal, they whispered, betrayer, betrayed. My finger lightly touched the trigger, I felt cold icicles of fear stab in my gut, and the nauseating horror of my situation envelope me. I could hardly breathe. Am I breathing? I keep my face impassive, I dare not show one micron of the tumult inside. I take the initiative.

“What’s going on, Shepard? This looks bad, your gun drawn on a councillor.”  I do not lower my weapon, I do not blink – I know how fast Shepard is. My fear is as swirling and leaden as a mass effect core.  I want to ignore Udina’s words that Shepard still with Cerberus, but I can’t, they mirror the whispers in my head.

“Kaidan, I can explain…” I hear his words, but I’m watching his eyes, mouth and body. He lowers his gun, standing down and indicates for Garrus and Liara to do the same: they do. I watch them too. They follow his every command, every signal. I see their eyes resolute, their bodies standing firm, their belief in him… just as resolute.

Shepard’s eyes turn the wave of suspicion inside me; he is looking at me the way he did in Huerta, when he said I was special. He tells me there is no time to negotiate and I believe him. I believe him because the alternative is to kill him and whatever Shepard is, he doesn’t deserve that. Paranoia still whispers in the darkest heart of me; I push it away. It comes down to this, I’m not prepared to kill Shepard on Udina’s say so; one of them is a proven scumbag.

I look Shepard in the eyes, “I’d better not regret this.”

I know turning my back to Shepard means I might be dead, if the voices are right. I turn and point my gun at Udina. I pause. But unlike pointing my gun at Shepard, I’ve wanted to shoot that unscrupulous bastard from day one. I still remember, Udina. When he pulls out a gun from nowhere and points it at the Asari Councillor, the time for thought is gone and I’m ready to pull the trigger. Shepard takes the shot before I can finish deciding to. I should feel bad for Udina, I guess, but really, I don’t. I turn to Shepard and a wave of nausea hits me like a slap in the face.

I see in Shepard’s face he has no regrets killing Udina; there is hardness and a complete lack of emotion. His jaw is clenched tight. I try to speak to him before he leaves, but I don’t get the chance. He’s off clearing up the remaining Cerberus troops; I would’ve gone with them, but the council asked me to wait awhile with them. I couldn’t refuse them. He didn’t look at me once. I doubted him again. I questioned him again. Will he forgive me again?

While I am waiting with the Council, I get a communication from Hackett. He wants me to join the fleet, or at least, the option is open to me if I’m not going with Shepard. Does he know something I don’t? Of course, I want to go with Shepard. But then, I think I should talk with him first. Does he even want me on his ship now?

My mind wanders into the dark places again. I can’t help wondering, would he have killed me? What would have happened if I didn’t back down? What would have happened if he didn’t? Could I have really killed him? The reality is, no… I couldn’t. There’s that doubt again; we’re old friends now. Now I’m thinking; could Shepard have killed me as easily, as he pulled the trigger, to kill Udina? The second-guessing termites burrow their way into my head and soon I find, I don’t know anything anymore. The Council soon get their relief and relieve me of watching them. My only thoughts are of Shepard and I know where to wait to find him.

I wait by the Normandy airlock. I know Shepard will turn up here eventually and he does. He looks surprised to see me here and pleased as well.

“Kaidan, hey, I wondered where you went,” he quickly assesses I am here for a reason, but sounds casual about it. “What’s up?”

I tell him. He seems to think I’m angry about what happened, couldn’t be farther from the truth. I try to explain how I feel, but the words aren’t coming easily. To my surprise, he seems unsurprised by my problem with everything. Perhaps he was waiting for it.

“I’m just not used to starring down the gun of someone I’ve worked with so closely.” Or someone I care about more than I care to think about.

“Ok, talk to me, Kaidan.”

“I feel if I hadn’t backed down, you would have taken me out.” He nods, he understands where I’m coming from.

“I trusted you, Kaidan, I knew you would come around. That’s all that matters.” I can see he means that. I can see he really believes he understands me that well. But then I think of Udina and I need to understand his motivations.

“Yeah, but sometimes the way a thing goes down does matter, Shepard. Later, when you have to live with yourself.” And really, I’m not aiming that at him, I’m aiming it at myself too. I could have shot him, just as he could have down the same to me. I’m not asking him if I think he acted with integrity, I am asking him if he thought I had… as I have been asking myself for the last few hours.

“You mean Udina? Any soldier would have done the same, including you.” It’s like there is a double-layered conversation, the question asked and the answer given, but underneath there is more meaning to it. Shepard is also referring to the stand-off between us.

“Ok.” I say simply. So now, I bit the bullet and ask if I can join him on the Normandy, or I’m off to join Hackett’s fleet, because I have to; there’s no waiting anymore.

Shepard smiles when I say, “I’d turn Hackett down in a second if there’s a chance to join you on the Normandy.”

“I couldn’t imagine meeting the Reapers without you.” I’m taken aback that he so easily accepts me back on his crew. I thank him and then I realise the reason he didn’t ask me before, because of Horizon, I’d turned him down. Perhaps he didn’t want to put me in an awkward situation. In a microsecond, I feel dreadful; Shepard didn’t doubt or question me.

I blurt out, “I need you to know, I’ll never doubt you again. I’ve got your back.”

He smiles again, but broader this time with the confidence I have come to associate with him. “Good to know,” he says, but his eyes say he always knew. He has a faith in me that I’ve never had for myself. I keep doubting him and he keeps showing me he is, as he has always been, an honourable man. I feel those embers ignite fully and I know I don’t want to fight it anymore. I don’t care that he doesn’t feel the same way; I’ll feel enough for the both of us.

It would be easy to follow and die for Shepard; it’s seductive to me. I can serve the Alliance, save lives, make a difference and follow that man wherever he leads me. This is the path I want to take, this is the life… and death I want. It’s not morbid; I’m not suicidal. I just feel balanced by knowing I’ve chosen how I want to live and die, and not by an implant, not by Cerberus, and not by the Reapers. Though they might be the Damocles swords hanging over me, I choose to walk beneath them. I have an unconquerable soul; Shepard has shown me as much.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘unconquerable soul’ is a direct quote from ‘Invictus’ by William Ernest Henley, which if you have the time and inclination, you should read.


	5. Chapter 5

Fire the fields, the weed is sown.

\- Faunts _M4 Part II_

 

Being back on the Normandy, was like stepping into bliss. I know there’s an apocalypse going on; I haven’t lost sight. I am where I wanted to be. Friends and familiar faces surround me. And in the downtime between horror and death, it is pleasant to spend time here. It’s easy for me to escape when I need to; the migraines are as promised, increasingly worse. It doesn’t stop me from anything, mostly makes me a little antisocial at worst. From here, I can watch Shepard closely; help him in any way I can. After a few days, it’s plain to see that Shepard is under a tremendous amount of stress, of course. He’s not sleeping well: are any of us? Looking out of the observation lounge window, I cannot help but visualise each star as a life, screaming out into the black silence. Helpless, alone, while here I am sitting, waiting to serve. I know the practicalities of rest; but it’s hard to make a joyful moment when you know so many suffer.

Shepard often takes time out of his busy day to speak to his crew. I notice how little time he spends alone. It’s no coincidence that he avoids that same time with his thoughts. His attentiveness to his crews need is commendable; he never lets anyone slip under the radar. His visits to me are moments where I can bask in him.

The conversations we have are incidental to the actual time spent together. We laugh and joke; get sad and relate. There are moments where I get glimpses of the man behind the legend that is Commander Shepard, a softer, sweeter and more sensual man than he normally allows to be seen. I cannot describe what these moments mean to me, they are beautiful, self-contained pieces of heaven. I am always left wanting. I want those eyes to look at me and reflect the fire back at me. It’s not fair; I know it’s not. He is my Commander and I’m sure he doesn’t feel the same.

It’s not just me either; I see how the rest of the crew admire him in one way or another. It’s clear that Liara loves him deeply; I know they are just friends, but occasionally I see a wistful look cross her face. When I see her look at him like that, I fear that I am as transparent; I try very hard not to reveal the depth of my feeling. It’s my burden. I have resigned myself to this state of perpetual unfulfilled desire. Being a part of his life is privilege enough, I tell myself.

For a while, this worked; I kept myself in check and was the best possible soldier and friend I could be. That was because of him, for him: I wanted to be better. But then something changed, his visits became more frequent. He checked in on me when I least suspected it, often sharing meals together and passing time, like we had an abundance of it. There were no complaints from me on this front; but I started to see the idea of feeling enough for both of us, was going make me explode.

I recalled a conversation we had in my quarters, I’d told him about my Dad being MIA and I’d asked him how he coped.

“I feel for you Kaidan. There’s strength in camaraderie, in empathy,” he’d said.

I asked, “How do you do it, Shepard, keeping it together like this?”

“I use it. I think of how Earth looked, how it’s going to look when we go back. I think of the people I’ve lost; the people I might lose. It’s not rage, but the fuel from where my anger burns. But you can’t let it take you over, just give you the strength to carry on.” I remember the way he’d spoken touched me; he was never scared to say how he felt or thought. I was so happy that he could speak to me the way I felt I could speak to him. Another moment, treasured.

The conversation played on my mind for days, while Shepard spent time with me. I knew, after a while, that I couldn’t carry on. There was one particular night, where we had become so comfortable with each other, we’d sat, hardly talking, looking out at the stars from the observation deck. I don’t know what he was thinking, but I was painfully aware that he was sitting next to me, so close… so far. The talking had petered out, but the peace from the quiet and the natural sounds of the ship, were comforting. I could hear Shepard’s breathing, when I glanced at him he had his eyes closed. At first, I thought he was asleep, but I saw him smile, ever so softly.

He didn’t open his eyes, just said, “Kaidan, are you watching me sleep?”

Completely flustered, I blurted, “No, Sir! I mean, yes… well I didn’t know if you were sleeping. I was just… checking.” Yeah, good recovery, Kaidan.

Shepard just smiled wider, eyes still shut, not saying anything, and clearly enjoying my embarrassment.

Desperate to say something, I add, “I mean, if you are tired... why don’t you just put your feet up here and catch ten.”

He simply says, “Ok. Thanks,” and sinks a little lower on the couch putting his feet up on the table in front. I see him relax, his smile fades, and his breathing slows. Now, I am watching him sleep, not creepy at all. All sorts of stupid, juvenile stuff parades through my head, like wanting to hold him, kiss him, but respect does not allow me to violate the vulnerable trust given to me. I do watch him sleep, until I also drift off. When I wake up, Shepard is gone and my gut wrenches with a feeling I’m familiar with: loss. I know then that things cannot continue the way they have been.

The thing is I’m not sure what to do. Spending less time with him is not what I want. So, I do the only thing open to me. I do nothing.

A few more days go by. After Shepard has finished briefing Anderson and Hackett, he drops by with dinner. I have bad migraine, the meds aren’t helping much, and I asked the Doc for something to help. I guess Shepard must have heard this from her and knew I’d be hiding out in my quiet and darkened room.

“Hey, I heard you weren’t feeling great and saw you’d missed dinner. I missed it too, so I brought you some of what I was making.”

“Wow, thanks Shepard, I was feeling a bit peckish.” He hands me the plate and it smells good, something Italian I think, smells of tomato. I am, again, touched by his thoughtfulness.

“I can’t promise it’s a culinary delight, but you know, fills a hole.” I tuck in gratefully. I notice my migraine has faded a little, it’s quite bearable now. As I am eating, I notice Shepard is watching me, not the whole time, but glancing. I can tell he seems slightly off, nervous even. I understand he’s here for something else. Perhaps something Hackett or Anderson has told him, I guess. I finish and rest the plate down on the table; we make small talk for a time. The whole time we are talking, I notice that he is not relaxed.

Eventually I have to ask, “Is everything all right, Shepard? You seem tense tonight.”

He looks at me for a couple beats and says, “Yeah, everything is fine. I’m just tired, not been sleeping great.”

“When did you last catch some?” I ask.

Again the pause. He’s trying to remember when he last slept. “Probably last time I sat here.”

“That was three days ago! No wonder you are jittery.”

He shakes his head, “ Nah, that’s just the side effects of the coffee I’ve been surviving on.”

“Shepard, you can’t carry on like that. You should seriously consider getting some meds and shut eye.”

“I can’t take meds; need to be awake at a moment’s notice. Maybe I could just relax here for a while?” He’s dog-tired and I feel for him.

“Of course you can. In fact,” I say, getting up and pulling out that bottle he’d given me, “one of these won’t hurt you either.”

We sit back together on the couch, sipping our drinks and there’s this moment. I feel him looking at me, I don’t turn or look at him, because I’m suddenly afraid of what I’ll see if I do. I focus on the sparking suns twinkling through the window from the cold blackness of space. I feel him move and rest his arm across the back of the couch, his hand somewhere behind my neck. I can feel its warmth, its closeness. I sip my drink; I pretend I haven’t noticed. But I have and I’m starved of physical closeness, my body tingles in a way I wish it wouldn’t, not right now. He’s so close to me I can smell him, I know how that sounds, but everyone has their own scent and I know his well. It’s overwhelming. It’s embarrassing. I feel myself physically responding to his presence, I drop my hand into my lap to hide it.  And there we sit, not talking and drinking. That is until I hear his soft snore and I look to see he is actually asleep. I’m relieved and disappointed at the same time. I take the glass from his relaxed grip and then cover him with a blanket. He looks uncomfortable, but I daren’t move him, he is at least asleep. I watch him for a while and decide I’m going to tell him how I feel. Not now, just when the next opportunity arises. I settle on the other end of the couch and watch him until I fall asleep.

This time, when Shepard wakes up, I hear him. He says, “Kaidan?” Softly.

I turn and open my eyes sleepily, “I’m awake.” I have to blink a couple of times before I can focus on him fully.

“Do you want coffee?” His face is alarmingly close to mine and I just nod stupidly. And then he gets up and is gone. Presumably, to fetch the coffee, which gives me enough time to shower. When I return to my quarters, the coffee is sitting on the table, steaming.

Xxx

Next time we are on the Citadel, I ask Shepard if he wants to meet me for lunch on the promenade, which he agrees to pretty quickly. I’m so nervous; I feel sick. I ask myself a hundred times if telling him is the right thing to do. Will it change the dynamic between us? I feel if I don’t; I’ve wasted my second chance. I might die tomorrow, and whilst Shepard will know I was a loyal soldier, can I die knowing that he didn’t know the depth of my feeling for him?

I’m early, of course I’m early, and I’ve already had a straight up scotch. Dutch courage. I doubt, insecurity thrums through me in waves, I’m not worthy. And then Shepard sits beside me. I look at him and know I am making the right choice. We small talk about food and get on to the subject of life.

I tell him how I planned my life but hadn’t planned on Armageddon. Dating in the apocalypse is hard.

“Maybe what I’ve never found, and what I want, is something deeper with somebody I already care about. Well that’s what I want; what do you want?

“Me and you Kaidan? Is that what you are saying?” He looks taken aback, surprised even. My heart takes a nosedive into the pit of my stomach.

“Yes.”

I know what he’s going to say before he says it, my ego hides. “Kaidan, I think we should keep this professional.”

“Wow, this was way less awkward in my mind,” I say, “I want you to know I admire you, as my Commander, you are a friend to me.”

Shepard nods and tells me I’m like a brother to him. Damnit. The rest of the meal passes without much awkwardness, Shepard puts me as ease, as he always does. But, he is quick to leave once the meal is completed. Why, I ask myself, did I just do that… I knew it would fuck things up.

He leaves it two days before he comes by to see me again. Perhaps to give me a little space, to compose myself. I’m not composed. I feel like I’ve made an ass of myself, humiliated myself in front of him. He keeps it casual and doesn’t stay as long as he used to.  At first, I think I have ruined things, but then, gradually I see it hasn’t. Shepard still spends time with me, brings me meals when I am ill and occasionally falls asleep on my couch. But the line is drawn and I have no place in crossing it, no matter how much I might want to.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Water down your empty soul  
\- Faunts _M4 part II_

I watched the vid over and over, but what my eyes saw and my ears heard, just didn’t seem to sink in. The initial rush of excitement that thrilled through me made way for more misery. While this was all new for me, it was old news for Shepard. I’d already declared how I felt and he’d made his position clear. I thought I wanted to know, now I wish I’d never found out. It was worse this way. I felt defeated. I felt deflated. He felt the same but chose duty.

I probably did the worse thing to deal with the situation; I avoided him to have time to deal with it. I think, maybe, he was avoiding me a little too. Either way, we saw little of each other the few days before the Reapers hit Thessia. To see Thessia falling that way, to know that millions were dying as I stood on the Normandy and did nothing, made me feel so helpless and insignificant. I am nothing in the grand scheme of the things. Yet my life, here on the Normandy, counted towards hope. Hope has power, it has substance in the minds of men, and hope is something the Reapers will never understand. I hope for the Asari people as I do my own and I hope Shepard returns from Thessia alive.

When Shepard boarded the Normandy, I knew by his face that things had not gone well. For the first time, Shepard didn’t seem able to look anyone in the eye. He stormed through to the war rooms.

I looked at Liara and I felt my heart break a little for her. She was barely keeping it together. She didn’t want to leave, man… I really understood that. Didn’t I leave a piece on my own heart back on Earth, when I too, had to leave.

“Hey, Liara? Are you ok?” A lame thing to say, but there is no eloquence that can cover ‘How are you feeling after watching your planet fall?’.

She looks at me, angry at first, but then softens as she remembers Earth, “I’m not ok. I need to…” She hesitates, struggling to finish her sentence. “I need to speak to Shepard, I have to go back.”

I don’t say anything; I just reach out and put my hand on her shoulder, look into her eyes until she stops seeing Thessia, and sees me. She puts her hand over her mouth and loses composure for a few moments, she doesn’t cry, but the horror of everything starts sinking in. It is becoming real for her. I mean… it was real before, but the blood of your people spreading across your own planet is realism in its barest form. I pull her in to hold her, not out of some masculine bullshit, but because she’s my friend and I empathise with her pain. So much so, I can’t help but shed a few tears myself. I don’t hide it, why should I? If the fall of an ancient civilisation isn’t something to cry about, then what is, the pain, the suffering, the death, or the fact we are utterly helpless to prevent it?

She pulls away from me as she regains her mask. I recognise it; I wear one myself on occasion. She’ll pretend to be Liara for a time and then, when it’s safe, when it’s convenient she’ll stop pretending for a little while and let some of the emotion go. That’s how we have to cope, letting it out by piecemeal or drown. She says, “Thank you, Kaidan.” And we say no more about it.

In the war room, Shepard is angry. I watch him stalk around the room. He is a predator and he wants blood. Cerberus won’t know what has hit them. I see currents of pain in Shepard’s face surfacing every time the Illusive Man is mentioned. We all have had enough of Cerberus, but it is frustrating to know that we will still have to wait. More downtime climbing the walls.

I give it a few hours, and then I decide I am going to go and speak to Shepard. I nearly fall over Garrus heading into the elevator.

“Ah, Kaidan, I was hoping to run into you,” Garrus seems genuinely pleased to see me, though I couldn’t help thinking he didn’t need to run into me, he knows where my quarters are. “I have some of those Turian plays I mentioned last time we spoke, translated of course.” He holds out a data pad.

“Er…Thanks,” I say, politely. What Turian plays? I’m confused. Sure, I’ll read the plays, but not now, I want to go see Shepard.

“Do you have time for a coffee?” He doesn’t drink coffee, I know this and he knows this… but I get the meaning.

“Sure.” This is actually the last thing I want. We go to the galley and get some coffee, well I do, and Garrus drinks this brown stuff that smells like wet dog.

“Which one should I read first?” I ask, starting the conversation and suspecting Garrus is enjoying my puzzled look.

“You should definitely read ‘ _The Primark’s Fall’_ , it’s a very popular tragedy, thought provoking and hilarious.” Ok, so Garrus is up to something here, I smell it… and it’s not just wet dog.

“Hilarious? A tragedy?”

“Well, it’s not supposed to be, but over the years as I have gotten older, I find many parts of it, ridiculous,” Garrus picks the pad up and scrolls through until he finds what he’s looking for. “Take this for example. The Primark’s duty to Palaven is to protect it, but here in this scene his duty will kill his love.”

“Why is that hilarious?”

“Because he can’t do it, he chooses a different path that ultimately leads to his defeat in battle.”

I still look confused, because I am still confused.

“Listen: I turn’d about face and left my men to die and defend my heart. I became lost no longer and erred a path to love, paved with the blood of soldiers soon interred. Their faces etched with my betrayal.”

“I still don’t get it, Garrus.”

“The play damns love as the ultimate cause of the Primark’s downfall, but if he’d told his men - men who were loyal enough to die knowing he lied to them - well… don’t you see the irony? If they would die for his lie… they would’ve died for his love too. The outcome would have the same result, but the Primark would have his honour.”

I blink.

Is he…?

Garrus continues in my stunned silence, “It only hilarious when you consider that love is supposed to be weak, in Turian eyes, it makes you susceptible. And yet, love underpins the entire play, the love of a mate, family, honour, duty, and Palaven. Tactically speaking, ignoring the consequences of love was the cause of the fall, not the emotion itself.”

“No, that’s still tragic, Garrus, not funny.”

He looks at me with what I can only describe as… gravitas and says, “Yes, you are right; it’s not funny at all,” no twinkle in his eye and no silent growl, just deadpan. “Well, I hope you enjoy the play… I’ve got to go and calibrate things. Busy, busy, busy.”

I sat for a long time, looking at the space Garrus left behind. I can see he has changed since we last served together, grown darker, and yet somehow he still had that charm. Time with Shepard shows you dark things, it’s hard not to take some of that inside yourself.

I read the play; it’s caught my interest. It reminded me of some human plays I read when I was in school; we aren’t so vastly different from Turian’s really. I like Garrus, I really do, and he’s taken the time to create this elaborate metaphor for what is happening between Shepard and me. I’m not sure why he’d didn’t approach the subject directly, but I am glad of the distance he created. Now I am left wondering what to do with it. Garrus is basically telling me he thinks Shepard is making a mistake. I know he has tried to convince Shepard and failed, and now he’s come to me, subtly, to the same end.

He’s right in many ways, Shepard taking risks for me will get him, and the people with him killed. Luckily, Cortez’s concussion was not serious and he was back to duty as soon as the Doc cleared him for flying. I reckon she would have kept him under observation for longer, but the safety margins are significantly reduced when time is not on our side.

So what do I do with this?

I’ve sat here, reading this play and drinking coffee, still none the wiser. A large part of me wants to go to him, grab him and kiss and let the chips fall where they may. However, I’ve always been fairly disciplined emotionally, since I know my biotic outbursts have dire consequences, so running in headfirst doesn’t seem like such a good idea. It’s just not me. Perhaps just being there, being around will be enough. Forcing the issue doesn’t seem right in this instance.

I stand and start walking to the elevator. I key the button for Shepard’s room. After a day like today, Shepard will be hurting, and that should be my only priority.

It takes a while for the doors to open.

Shepard opens them and says, “Kaidan, come in,” he steps aside so I can enter. “What’s up?”

I’m a little taken aback. He smiling, but still covered in Thessian dirt. He notices me noticing and he looks a little embarrassed.

“I er… fell asleep.”

“Did I wake you?” I’m horrified at the thought I have woken him up.

“Yeah, but I’m glad you did. I’ve slept too long and I really need to shower,” He gestures to his grubby state.

“I’ll come back later when you’ve finished your shower.”

“Actually, Kaidan, could you do me a favour?”

“Sure, Shepard, what do you need?”

He looks embarrassed to ask, but says, “Coffee and breakfast?”

I smile and start to head out of the door, “Well, I guess it’s the least I can do after you dragged my ass out of that last mission alive.”

I’m smiling as I gather breakfast for Shepard; I invite myself and add two cups and two plates. I’m obscenely happy performing this very domestic task. I go back up to his quarters and he’s still in the shower. I set down the tray on the table and notice that there are some data pads on the floor, an ornament, and a glass. I’m no detective, but I’m sure they were thrown there. I pick the stuff up and place it back where I think it came from. I turn around to see Shepard standing in a towel, sipping his coffee. I hadn’t heard him.

“When I asked for breakfast, I didn’t expect the service to come with cleaning,” his eyes glint with amusement. I only look at his eyes; I don’t trust myself to glance elsewhere.

“Well, when I said I’d get you breakfast I didn’t know what a messy ass you were… Sir,” He laughs, grabs his clothes and dresses. I tactfully become more interested in the food and don’t look over until he is finished dressing. We sit for a while, talking, eating, and not thinking about anything too dark. It’s nice, I feel lightened by it.

After a while, he goes over to the data pads he’d thrown on the floor previously, retrieves them, and places the pads on the table in front of us. We study the info trying to get a handle on some of the Cerberus tactics, equipment etc. I start to understand why he chucked them across the room in the first place. It is depressing to read the damage they have done when they could have been helping the galaxy. Then I read the reports that have come out of Thessia and how they compare to Palaven, Decuna, Earth, and others. The numbers, all those zeroes, they don’t have any real meaning for me because I cannot understand how many lives that is. I feel a migraine worming its way into my brain. I don’t leave, because I want to help Shepard with his burden, I don’t want him to be alone. It’s not long before the waves of pain are making me feel sick.

“Kaidan!”

I look up startled by Shepard’s exclamation of my name and I say, “What is it?” But as I say it, I feel warmth on my face and mouth. I’m bleeding, I feel dizzy for a moment. And then Shepard’s right there, giving me something to mop up the blood. The pain is sickening and I struggle to say, “I’m ok, just a nosebleed.”

I try to stand, which was foolish as I wobble unsteadily. Shepard holds my arm and says, “I am taking you to Chakwas, no arguments.” And he does, and I don’t argue, mainly because the world is going grey with pain.

The Doc medicates me strongly and I doze off. I phase in and out a little. I remember her telling Shepard to leave, not sure why. When the pain is gone and I feel less like a newborn lamb. I sit up a little and the Doc comes over. I have all sorts of manic things going through my mind; I’m worried about what she is going to say, not only to me but to Shepard as well.

“You can relax, Major. I haven’t said a word to him… yet. Your answers to my questions will determine that,” I nod and she continues, “Have you been drinking coffee?”

“Yes,” I say slowly, worried.

“Would you say more than usual?”

I think about it and realise I have been awake a long time and, yeah I had drunk a lot of coffee. “Yeah, more than usual.”

“You are going to have to stop drinking so much of it. The caffeine increases heart rate and consequently, your blood pressure.  If you feel tired, your ‘go to’ should be sleep and if you can’t sleep, lay in the dark and just get the rest. The caffeine does not like your implant, and your implant doesn’t like not getting enough sleep.”

“So it’s just the coffee?”

She looks at me, annoyed, “No, it’s not just the coffee, it’s the implant, the lack of rest, the pummelling your head keeps taking, the stress physically, the stress mentally, the grief… do I need to continue?” I shake my head, carefully. “I’m patching you up and sending you back out. Ideally, you’d have your implant upgraded or removed, you’d have bed rest and there is no way in hell I’d let you out on active duty.”

“And Shepard?” I ask.

“I think he should know, unless you can think of a reason why I should continue to keep it from him?”

“I don’t want to burden him. He has a great deal to worry about and I’d rather not add to it, unless you think I’m incapable of performing my duty.”

“I think you are capable, Major. I’ll keep it to myself unless Shepard asks me directly.”

“Thanks, Doc, I really appreciate that.” She shakes her head at me, lectures me about ignoring the signals of a major migraine, and then repeats it all over again.

Before I go back to my quarters, I check with command that I’m not needed for the next few hours and decide to go sleep off the rest of my meds while I still feel dopey. I kinda like the hazy feeling, I feel like I am drifting down to my room. Once there, I change into my nightwear and lower the lights. I like to leave the observational window open; I like to see the starlight bathe the room. It’s also something to look at when I am trying to drift off to sleep. I just start to lose myself to sleep when someone is buzzing my door. I get up and open it. I still feel pretty hazy.

“Did I wake you?” Shepard is standing there, tray of food in hand.

“Nope, I was trying and not succeeding,” I can’t tell him he woke me… he might go away. I let him in.

“Hungry? I wanted to repay the favour from earlier, before our next mission.”

“Yeah, thanks.” I’m quiet, but that’s because I am tired.

We eat undisturbed and we small talk. There’s this air in the room, I’m not quite sure what it is, but it wakes me up, energises me. I notice Shepard hasn’t asked me about my nosebleed, I’m not sure if it’s out of politeness or because he is avoiding it in case I am embarrassed. I am a little, stupid lapse in judgement on my part because I wanted to spend time with him. As soon as that thought finishes, I realise Garrus’ advice might work both ways. I am being an idiot for Shepard. I need to refocus and reinforce my willpower; I need to remember I’m not what Shepard wants.

“Kaidan?”

“Yeah?” I look up, startled from my train of thought.

“Where are you?” He’s smiling a little, at my expense.

I smile, because I’ve been caught, mind wandering, “Sorry, I’m still a little doped from the meds.” Nicely done, avoided answering the question.

Shepard asks, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good, the Doc sorted me out. My own fault, I knew I had a headache coming, I shouldn’t have ignored it.”

“Glad to hear it, you had me worried for a while there.”

“Actually, I was worried about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Thessia,” I say simply.

“It was hell and once again, I had to leave it behind, as I did Palaven, as I did Earth.” He sits forward resting his elbows on his knees, holding his head with his hands. “It doesn’t get easier.”

“I think you want to worry if it does get easier.” I don’t like the look on his face, like he’s wrestling something.

“I know, I know. It’s just so… It’s just that I feel so… Guilty,” he doesn’t look at me but I hear the break in his voice, as if the emotion caught him by surprise.

I sit next to him; put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze, just to let him know he’s not alone. I feel useless in the wake of his sudden flood of feeling. He’s not crying, but struggling to hold it all in. It’s not a good sign if you can’t just let go and cry occasionally. I want to hug him and take the pain away. After a few moments, this is exactly what I do. I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his. I don’t say anything, because what can I say? It’s not going to get better, it is going to cost blood to win this war, and we aren’t even close to being finished yet. Words would be as hollow as I’d feel saying them. The embrace is not remotely sexual, but I feel so much for him, I just want to heal his hurt. Time passes and he regains himself. He lifts his head up and looks directly into my eyes. I can’t avoid the eye contact; I am utterly paralyzed. He looks at me for what seems like an eternity, I suppose it wasn’t very long at all. He leans slightly forward and for one electric moment, I think he is going to kiss me. I can barely breathe.

“Kaidan?”

“Yes?” My voice is slightly husky, strained with fear and anticipation.

“I… Thank you… you are a good friend to me,” he looks away and the moment is broken. I move my arms and give him a couple of manly pats to the back.

There really isn’t anything else to say, and Shepard gets up to leave.

“I’ll let you catch some shut-eye, Major. See you tomorrow.”

I watch the doors shut on his retreating back.

I get up and stand by the window. I dim the lights again and bathe myself in the stars. My mind is racing ahead with ideas and thoughts. I realise now, with crystal clarity, that Garrus is right. I pick up the ‘ _The Primark’s Fall’_ and scroll to a highlighted sentence: ‘There can be no victory stronger, than the battles you win against yourself, but there can be no victory sweeter, than the war you win against life’. What I want and what the galaxy needs is the same thing. Just as I fight for what I believe in, I will fight for whom I believe in.

I stare at the words, smiling.

I looked into his eyes and for the first time, I saw reflection. I saw the fire.

I feel the silent sea of hope washing upon the shores of possibility.


	7. Chapter 7

Wake the sea of silent hope  
Water down your empty soul  
\- Faunts _M4 Part II_

 

Sleeping well does wonders for your perspective and I slept really well last night. Who knew just coming to a decision gave such peace of mind. I have no idea how I am going to change anything, but just wanting to makes such a difference. I feel revived. Everything I do has that little bit more vim. So much so, people have commented that I look well. Hell, I look in the mirror and see it myself. A burden has lifted.

Shepard on the other hand looks terrible. It’s clear he is not sleeping and his mind is so full of the awfulness of this war there is room for little else. The weight on him is of Atlas sized proportions. We all do everything we possibly can to relieve him of what we can, but it mounts every day. And each day takes a little bit of light from him… I can see him drowning in the darkness of it all.

I spend a lot of time doing the little things for Shepard, the small stuff he’s started to forget about. Yeah, I am covering for him, but I’m not the only one. People don’t pick him up on it, maybe they should; I think he’d be horrified if he knew how much he was letting slip by. It matters and it doesn’t matter. Either way, I… we have his back.

It isn’t long before Shepard comes to see me. I figured if I gave him a break from seeing too much of me, he would seek me out himself. Looks like I was right. He finds me in the rec room, reading the recorded dead lists from Earth. There are two crewmembers playing cards at the other end of the room.

He sits beside me, as he always does.

“Hey, Kaidan.” The lack of sleep shows through dark circles and bloodshot eyes.

“Shepard,” I say, “How are you doing?” I lay my data pad down on my lap.

“I’m good,” he says and then, after I give him the ‘really?’ look he recants. “No. I feel exhausted.”

I frown and say, “When did you last sleep?”

“Maybe two days ago,” I give him another disapproving look. “I know, I know. I just can’t seem to relax. Too many thoughts.”

“Still won’t take some meds?”

“No, I won’t risk it. Is that what you did?”

“Did?”

“Take sleeping meds?”

“No, I haven’t taken anything for that since the migraine. Why do you ask?”

“Well, you look…” He can’t help but smile and look away. The change in expression is lightening and he looks immediately less tried.

“I look like what?” I’m chuckling now, enjoying his moment of embarrassment.

“You look… you know, rested.”

“Do I now?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Yes, I’ll have whatever it is you’re taking.

He is flirting with me. I feel a fluttering inside. I wish those crewmen weren’t here. I wonder what Shepard would do if I just kissed him?

I say, “Well, I have a secret stash I might let you in on.”

He looks at me for a few beats, “Might?”

“Might.”

“That’s harsh. I could order you to send it on over…”

“You could…”

“But?”

“You’re better off just bribing me… less effort, no pesky Alliance forms.”

“Hmmm, I do hate filling out forms.”

“I know.”

“Oh, you have it all figured out don’t you?”

I sit back and smile, “Yes I do.”

“What sort of bribery are we talking?” Shepard has a glint in his eye.

“I’m not cheap,” I play along.

“Of course not.”

“I suppose my quarters do need a clean…”

He chuckles, “I think we’ve already established that really isn’t my forte.”

“I’d settle for anything from Earth; whiskey?”

“Well, I’ll keep my eye out for something along those lines.”

“Better be quick,” I say smiling.

He smiles too, until his eyes happen to glance down at my data pad, “Looking for anyone in particular?”

“No,” I say, “Well, yes, sometimes. It helps me remember what we are doing out here.”

Shepard takes his turn raising his eyebrows at me, “You forgot?”

I look at him and say, “Of course not. I just... it focuses me; that’s all.” I don’t mention that I imagine one day, my name will be on there too.

“Actually, Shepard, scratch the whiskey… I want the most valuable thing out here.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Oh, and what would that be?”

“Hope,” I say quietly.

“Find yourself lacking in that, Kaidan?” I hear concern in his voice.

“Sometimes.” I’m not quite sure how it turned from flirting to depression, but it just did.

“Then I’ll share a secret with you, Kaidan,” I look up, “hope is the name we give to a possible future. And I’ll be damned if I’ll allow the Reapers to take hope from me.” This is why I follow him; why I feel the way I do. He inspires.

I nod, I can’t say anything to that.

There’s a lull in conversation at this point and the two crewmembers take this moment to leave and say good night. I’m glad.

Shepard yawns and sits further back.

“Are you sure you won’t consider those meds?” I ask.

“No. Not unless you’ve suddenly decided to share your secrets with the rest of us.”

I put the data pad on the table in front of us. I hope for a possible future. I feel my heart rate quicken and my gut churns in anticipation of my next move. Dare I?

I turn and say, “I can share…” I lean over slowly, so he has time to realise what is happening. I look into his eyes; I don’t see anything that suggests I should stop. The only thing I can hear is the pounding of my own heart; the rushing sound of whispering hope. I cross the small space between us and kiss him, softly. I hold there for a few electrifying seconds, and then pull back a little to see his reaction. His eyes are shut and when they open, there is fire. He does not stop me. I don’t want to let the moment get away, so I kiss him again. I am less gentle and release a little of my want for him. My hand slides around his neck, to pull him in closer.

He immediately stops being passive and responds by roughly gripping my shoulder with one hand and holding the back of my head with the other. He is strong, and like me, has clearly been missing human contact for quite some time. His kisses are hard and urgent. It feels like my blood is alight and it quits trying to get to my brain and travels elsewhere. Every part of me wants this and it feels like every part of Shepard does too. His hands start finding other places to explore, on the inside of my shirt. When I feel the firm touch of his hands on my chest, I breathe in sharply. He moves his hands around my back, skin on skin and pulls me closer to him. The heat from the embrace, the sensation of his unshaven face on mine and the awareness of moment, make everything else slip away. No pain, no horror, and no impending death. All the while, we kiss as if it’s the last thing we’ll ever do.  And it might be.

We hear the rec room doors open and throw ourselves apart. I covertly pull my shirt down and run my hand through my dishevelled hair. The crewmen who enter don’t notice us at first, thankfully, allowing the readjustment of clothes and dignity. They greet us and invite us to have a drink with them.

Shepard accepts. I decline.

To say I was furious with Shepard for staying is an understatement. I was livid. I went back to my quarters and sat for an hour trying to understand why he so smoothly gave me the slip. If it wasn’t what he wanted why didn’t he stop what was happening? The whole time I am angrily turning over these thoughts, I have one fear lurking around, unwelcome and unwanted; what if it’s my fault and I pushed him too far? Unfortunately, paranoia is a hungry fiend and I have plenty for it to feed upon.

I know I am wound too tight to sleep, so I head out for a shower. I need to cool down body and mind.

When I get back to my quarters, Shepard is already there, sitting, waiting. A look at his face and a sudden leaden feeling in my chest tell me all I need to know. Suddenly, I’m annoyed and very tired of the dance we’ve been playing.

“Don’t bother,” I say, holding my hands up and shaking my head. “Whatever reasons you have loaded in your chamber, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Kaidan…”

I cut him off, “No, I mean it, Shepard. Stow it.”

“Don’t be like that…”

“Oh, I have it all wrong do I? I’ve misunderstood. If that’s the case, come over here and finish what we started.”

He doesn’t move.

“Please, Kaidan, I don’t want to fall out with you over this. I made it clear before…”

“Made it clear? What, exactly, were you making clear in the rec room?”

“That’s unfair, Kaidan.”

“Do you want to know what I think?” I don’t wait for him to respond, “I think keeping me at arm’s length is just emotionally easier for you. All that shit about being focused and professional… If that’s the case, why do you keep coming here, why don’t you maintain a professional distance? You fall asleep on the sofa for fuck’s sake.”

Shepard just looks at me, confused and hurt.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to sleep there.”

“Look, I don’t care if you sleep there. Honestly, I’m just glad you sleep at all, but don’t label what you are doing as professional. Call it what it is.”

“And just what is it exactly, Kaidan?” His voice is controlled, tight. Locked down just like his emotions.

“Cowardice.” I see his hands flex, his body rigid, and I can see the muscles in his jaw clenching. “I’ll be damned if I know why you are so afraid of me.”

“Is that what you really think?”

“Yes.” I’m angry, I’m hurt, and I don’t really think about what I am saying. This is because I am an idiot.

Shepard looks down to the floor, nods and then walks out without another word. As he does, I feel something deep inside me lurch, I feel sick. I stand there for a while, allowing the moment to sink in. I feel the sharp spikes of regret poking at my eyes and I swallow it down, along with a chaser of bitterness.

I try to sleep. I keep seeing his face when I shut my eyes and for some reason wrapping the pillow around my head isn’t making it go away. You can bet no one will be complimenting me on my radiance tomorrow.

I give it up after two hours. I wander down to the galley in search of coffee. I crave coffee all the time now. I think that’s mostly because although I have cut down, I should still drink far less. My eyes wander to where Garrus resides and I start walking over, hoping he is there.

I poke my head around the door, “Garrus?”

Garrus stands up, “Kaidan?” He appraises me for a moment, “Is something wrong?” The concern on his face is genuine and touching.

“No… Well, yeah. I think I might have… well…” I struggle to find the words, “I’ve really messed up…” I can’t speak because my throat is closing up trying to keep in the emotion that is forcing its way out.

“Hey, now…” Garrus grabs my shoulder and manoeuvres me into sitting. He waits beside me as I gather myself.

“I’m an idiot.” It’s a good a place as any to start.

Garrus chuckles, “I’m not sure what the human etiquette is here; am I supposed to agree or disagree with you?”

“Probably agree, when said human is being an idiot.”

“Okay, so then I’m going to go with the next natural thing to ask. Why are you an idiot?”

I can’t seem to be able to form the words I want to say, but when I look at Garrus, he nods and seems to understand.

“Shepard?” He asks.

“Yep.”

“It can’t be that bad, surely?” I look at him with woeful eyes, “Really? That bad huh?”

“I kissed him. I pushed, even when I knew I shouldn’t have.”

“Well, that’s not the end of the world. Actually… poor turn of phrase.”

“That’s not the end of it. We argued and instead of respecting what he wants I insulted him.”

“You’re not the first lover to insult their beau, Kaidan.”

This is where I start to feel those damn spikes again, my chest heaves with feeling and to my embarrassment, I feel hot tears run down my face. I am getting to the crux of my shame. Garrus puts his arm around me and says nothing.

“I accused him of being a coward,” I say unable to look Garrus in the eye.

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

I look at Garrus confused; he pats my back a couple of times and removes his arm. He has that puckish look again.

“Kaidan, I wouldn’t worry. Shepard’s a big boy. We both know he isn’t a coward, but where you are concerned, he only reacts in fear. He needs to be called out on that and hopefully; he’ll have a good old think about it.”

“It won’t change anything.”

“It might. Actually, I have already tried to make him see sense, but he didn’t listen to me. Better he hears it from the one person whose opinion he does care about.”

“He respects you, Garrus.”

“Yes, in matters of tactics and war, but he hasn’t been listening to me regarding you.”

I know, of course, that Garrus has discussed me with Shepard, but he implies there was more than one conversation. “You talk about me with Shepard?”

“Oh don’t give me that face. Yes, I have mentioned you. You see, everything was fine up until you told him you had feelings for him… then it all started going to hell.” Garrus stands up and starts pacing about, “I think he was fine feeling the way he did when he thought it was unreciprocated, but when you told him you were interested in being more than friends, it changed him. Well actually, he was rather obsessed after you got hurt on Mars, but once you were aboard the Normandy he relaxed.”

“Right.”

“It’s a control thing, Kaidan. You’ll have noticed how controlled he is and I think you make him feel like he has none. It does scare him. And I think what frightens him more is how he thinks that will affect him in the fight against the Reapers.”

“Okay.” I try to process what Garrus is saying, “So… what do you think I should do now?”

“You’re asking me? A Turian, without one single successful relationship under his belt?” I look at him, he amuses himself, I’ll give him that. “Well, I’d be exactly what he wants, a professional.”

“Just like that… no apologising, no discussion?”

“I’m a tactician, Kaidan, believe me when I say doing nothing now is the most active thing you can do.”

“That makes sense.”

“Does it?” I look at him again and he laughs, “Sorry… Yes, it does make sense. Perfect sense.”

“Right, that’s what I’ll do then. Thanks, Garrus.” I get up to leave, I’m a little embarrassed, but Garrus just seems to have this way about him.

“Kaidan?”

“Yeah?”

“How did I do?”

“Do?”

“In the role of Turian/Human consolation?”

I hold up my hand, palm down, and give him the so-so hand sign. He laughs and I leave him chuckling away to himself.

So, I leave it alone. It’s hard and I hurt. Shepard doesn’t come to see me. The only interaction we have is professional. When I am alone, I feel isolated, but I don’t want to mingle with the rest of the crew. I still do the small stuff for Shepard, he won’t notice. Time rolls relentlessly on.

I’m preparing for the next mission, when Liara comes by to see me. I see that she is hesitant, uncomfortable, but here anyway.

“Liara, what’s up?”

“Kaidan, I just wanted to… that is I just hoped that…” She frowns, “Sorry, this is going to sound invasive, and I don’t mean to be.”

“Ok, shoot.”

“Did you say something to Shepard?”

“I say plenty to Shepard. Why?”

“Um… well, I’ve noticed he’s avoiding you.”

“We had words.”

Liara nods, “Do you think you two could sort it out?”

I shake my head, “What’s this about, Liara?”

She looks to one side, considering her next words, “He’s not sleeping, he’s snappy, and whenever anyone mentions your name, well, the look we get is not pleasant. I’m worried about him.”

“I don’t think I can change anything.”

She nods again, “Okay, thank you, Kaidan,” and turns to head out of the room.

“Wait, Liara,” She stops and waits looking at me. “I appreciate that he’s not himself and you are concerned, but I am trying… it’s just that it isn’t simple.”

“I understand.” She turns to head out of the door again, then stops, she doesn’t turn to look back at me, but says, “You know there’s quite a lot I would do, to have him look at me with half the feeling he directs at you. Don’t waste your time fighting him; give him what he wants and die knowing you made him happy, Kaidan.”

She leaves and I stare at the closed door for a long time, considering her words.

 

I feel awful and that feeling does not let up.

 

What you imagine is always supposed to be worse than reality. Let me clarify that this is a lie. There are things in real life are so horrific and awful that you cannot truly understand them. It can be the briefest of moments, hours, days, or the realisation of years. Evolution has come a long way and to see what we do to one another makes me sick. I stand, unable to conceal my rage, in Sanctuary, disgusted by my fellow man. I cannot believe what has happened here. No, that’s not right, I can believe it, I see it with my eyes, but the horror of it is just too much. What is seen cannot be unseen, what I feel cannot be unfelt. I look to Shepard throughout the mission, seeing his strength and control helps me focus on what needs to be achieved. The thing is, I see how angry he has become, I see the outrage and the absolute need to bring some sort of justice for the victims of Sanctuary, and I see how keeping all that inside is breaking Shepard at the seams.

I worry it is all too much for one man to carry.

I want to go and see him, but another argument with me isn’t going to help him.

Sleep seems to be the next best option. Unfortunately, I had a small nosebleed in the last mission. I go to the Doc and she suggests medication but I don’t want to be doped up. We compromise and she gives me a half dose of something to help me sleep. I take it and lay in the cold starlight, thinking that I’m probably going to die soon.

I dream. I’m on Eden Prime and this time Shepard doesn’t pull me out of the Prothean beacon. I see a cascade of images, but they are nothing to do with the Reapers, all I see is Shepard. I remember how he looked at me, the smiles, the encouragement, the belief he had in me, always. The imagery changes to Shepard surrounded by darkness, I’m trying to reach him, but he’s slipping away. I become desperate to get to him; I’m running, but moving so slowly. I’m shouting his name…

“Kaidan? Can you hear me?”

I snap open my eyes and see Shepard sitting on my bed beside me. I can feel my heart racing and, once again, I am drenched in sweat. I rub my eyes, confused and look to the time. I’ve been asleep five hours.

“Shepard, what is it? Has something happened?” My voice is husky and gruff.

“Nothing’s happened.”

I sit up in my bed, still trying to gather my thoughts from the wispy ghosts of the dream.

“I need to talk to you, Kaidan.”

“It couldn’t wait?”

“No.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“I need things to be right between us. I can’t bear the thought of something happening to one of us and those being the last words we said.”

“Okay.”

“You were right. I have avoided the issue with you, when I should have come clean.”

“Come clean?”

“I feel a connection to you, Kaidan.”

I’m sleepy and not quite rational yet, but I feel my stomach do a little loop-de-loop.

“Connection…” I say the words, but I know the truth is more complicated. He’s trying, but he’s still not being honest, not to me, not to himself.

“I just wanted you to know, I’m not playing games with you, I’m just a bit confused.”

I decide a more direct approach is need, but carefully, I say, “You are the light in my darkness.”

I don’t know what reaction I was expecting, but not Shepard jumping physically, like I’d just slapped him. He stares wide-eyed at me and I can see I’ve scared him.

“Why did you say that?”

I lie. I can’t actually tell him I looked up the audio and visual logs of when I was knocked out. So, instead I say, “I heard you say it to me, in the shuttle.”

“You misheard me.”

“You and I both know I didn’t,” I reach over and put my hand on his. I feel him trembling just before he snatches his hand away. He stands up and is extremely agitated.

“Shepard?”

“Goddamn it, Kaidan!” He shouts. He makes me start, but I can see the closer we get to the truth, the harder it is for him to remain detached.

“Look, you wanted to clear the air. But if we are going to, shouldn’t we at least talk honestly?”

“Honesty, you really want me to actually say what I think?”

“Yes.” But suddenly, by the look on his face maybe I don’t.

“Eden Prime.”

“What about it?”

“I knew then.”

I shake my head; the conversation has gone in a direction I do not fully comprehend. “Knew what?”

“I told you before; on Eden Prime I could see there was something special about you.”

A very dim light flickers in the recesses of my mind. I don’t speak because I seem to have lost the ability. Shepard waits looking at me.

“You mean…you… this whole time?”

He nods.

A chill breaks through the moment as I remember, as I recall. Moments, seemingly innocent, suddenly become so much more than they were. Images start to flash before my eyes; I recall his face on Horizon and see there, something I hadn’t before, heartbreak. My mind goes back to the original Normandy, the day the Collectors attack. He wouldn’t let me stay on the ship; he made sure I’d left. My gut twists up with guilt, if he’d let me stay he might have made it. I feel the dark thoughts rear up from the places I’d hidden them, but this time they swarm my mind with internal accusations.

“Why didn’t you say?” My voice is breathless and incredulous.

“I thought you hated me.”

“What?”

“After Horizon, you never contacted me, I figured because of Cerberus…” He trails off.

“I never hated you.” I grab his hand again and pull him so he sits back down on the bed. He is still trembling.

“On Mars you questioned me, doubted me, I figured nothing had changed. Why would I say anything?”

“What about on the Citadel, when I told you how I felt?”

“I’d resigned myself a long time ago that this was a one way thing, probably for the best, given what happened on the first Normandy. You absolutely sideswiped me; I didn’t see it coming and just said what came out first.”

“And now?”

He looks at me. I look at him.

“Now, you have to understand that the mission is everything. I cannot let anything distract me from that and… you do distract me.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” I lean in close and kiss him. I rest my hand on his face, touching the stubble with my fingertips; I feel his heat. He grabs hold of me and kisses me hard, just like last time. It takes my breath away; just like last time. And for a few beautiful moments nothing else exists. Just like last time.

Shepard pushes me away violently. He stands up and faces me.

“For fucks sake, Kaidan! Do you have any idea how hard it is to send you on missions knowing you could die? Do you have any idea how much harder that became, knowing you feel the same. Do you have an inkling as to how hard that would be if I allowed this to become real? Do you...?”

He waits for me to say something, but I have nothing.

Nothing except…

“I love you.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

I am the master of my fate:  
I am the captain of my soul.  
\- _Invictus_ by W.E. Henley

 

Silence is never actually silent.

I stand alone in the roaring quiet listening to the tumult of my thoughts. You cannot see or hear thinking, but it’s presence is a tangible thing. I wait, quietly, for something… anything.

Shepard walks out of the room.

I sit down on the end of my bed, feeling like I’m on the edge of oblivion.

Liara’s words float back to haunt me, ‘Give him what he wants and die knowing you made him happy’. I need to let it go or at least I need to stop pushing him now. I’ve said everything I need to say; he knows everything he needs to know as far as I am concerned. Of course, that doesn’t get rid of the leaden feeling I have.

I go and lie down on my bed and surprisingly fall asleep. A side effect of not enough coffee, not enough sleep and too many drugs.

When I wake, I feel rested. Then I remember. My stomach does a little lurch, but I ignore it. I hear from EDI that a meeting is underway and could I make my way to the war room. I dress and make my way there as quickly as I can.

The briefing concerns hitting Cerberus where it hurts. I cannot wait. I can see the others in the room feel the same way too. We need to take them out of the game they have been playing.

I’m surprised to hear that Shepard wants me to go; I honestly thought he’d want me to sit this one out. After briefing has finished I linger for a moment, watching him go through files on his workstation. I can’t work him out. I pick up the data pad with my mission information, I am already deciding what weapons to take, and the type of armour I’ll don. I load up extra info on the Illusive Man and Cerberus, as well as some stolen info that Shepard took, from his time with them. When I have finished collecting everything, I look up to say something and I see that Shepard is watching me. I forget instantly what I was going to say.

“Do you have everything you need, Kaidan?”

“Yeah, I think so. I’m gonna go down to the armoury and get everything ready now. Then some light reading,” I indicate the data pad, “I’ll probably go eat and drink an obscene amount of coffee; against doctors’ orders.” So clearly, I ramble when nervous.

“Good, I probably should eat myself. Let me know if you need anything else.”

I nod. He’s being Commander Shepard now, I’m the Major, and we play our roles and dance the dance.

I spend the time I need to get everything prepared. Cortez is a huge help, as is Vega. Though I sense he is a bit miffed he’s not going. I head back up to grab food; don’t want to leave it too long before the mission before I eat. Instead of immediately going back to my quarters, I stay and eat with everyone else. The mood is tense but the banter between crewmates is light. They laugh and smile, because soon they are going to face some hard times, so now is the time to live.

When Shepard turns up, there is a lot of back patting and the banter is respectful. These people are in awe of him and he takes such pains to appear human to them, even though it must be very hard for him to do. He has the right balance of approachable, but don’t push it. They love him. I smile and sip my coffee, read my homework. I look over a few times and it doesn’t seem to matter whom he’s talking to, or where he is standing, he is glancing at me. There is a look on his face that tells me he’s not afraid to show himself; he doesn’t look away or pretend to look at something or someone else. I find it comforting in a way. Eventually, I slope off. I need my own space for a little while.

The lead up to a mission is one of the worse things about serving. I hate waiting. Inaction is something with which I struggle.

 “Kaidan?” Shepard calls to me just as I enter the elevator. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Everything set?”

“Everything is as ready as it will ever be, Commander.”

“Kaidan, I...” He is struggling; I can alleviate that for him.

“We’re good, Shepard.”

“We are?” The disbelief on his face is almost comical.

“Yeah, we are.”

“You’re not angry?”

“No, I’m not angry. I’ll do whatever you need me to do, that’s why I am here.”

“Thank you.”

“You are my Commander, it’s my duty.”

“I know.” The elevator halts and the doors open.

He turns to leave and I say, “But I also do it, because I love you.”

He stops, “I know,” he carries on.

The sound of the door shutting crushes me inside, but that’s how it has to be. That’s what he wants, so I’ll give it to him. He already has enough to be getting on with. I go back to my quarters.

The idea of invading the Illusive Man’s base of operations appeals to me on a vengeful level. I would like to hurt him in many ways, but I have mixed feelings overall. He had the foresight to see that Shepard was something else, capable where most were not. He also had to foresight to understand the threat we were all under where most did not. He did the most important thing of all; he resurrected Shepard. I can think of plenty of myths and religions where the protagonist of the story comes back from the dead. I’ve started to think now there is a reason for that, perhaps in the past fluke, unknown medicine or just pure genetics has allowed these men and women to complete their destinies against insurmountable odds. I can’t help but notice that quite a few of these men and women die too. Their image, a beacon of hope where there was none. I look at Shepard and I see him in the same light, I wonder whether we’ll remember him in a hundred years, if we survive. It’s weird, I really don’t doubt that Shepard will succeed; I just doubt I’ll be there to see it.

I sigh. I look at the time; twenty minutes have passed. It’s going to be a long wait. I tear my eyes away from the accursed window and wander out to find more coffee. On my way there, I hesitate, and change direction to Medbay. I ask the Doc for some advice about having the implant replaced. She seems surprised; as well she might be, as I have no idea why I am asking. She outlines the choices, complete removal, or replacement. She even gives me the details of the different kinds of implant available to me. When I leave, she smiles at me and says, ‘Thank you.’

I make time to write a few letters, I daresay if I die they’ll never reach to whom their addressed to, but the writing is cathartic. My letter to Shepard is brief and succinct. I pick up the play Garrus gave me and read though the highlighted parts.  I mull over the words - ‘In the end, the victor has everything, but it does not mean he has won. He who wins does not have to be victorious, just willing to pay the price.’ I write this into a letter for Garrus, nothing else, just that quote. I spent the rest of my time packing my things, I like to know everything is in order before battle, loose ends tied etc.

I’m so absorbed in my tasks that I don’t notice Shepard enter my room, the first I know of it is the touch of his hand on my shoulder. I start when I see him, drop the book in my hand.

“Sorry, Kaiden, I thought you heard me I didn’t mean to make you jump.”

“S’ok, Shepard, you have light feet. What’s up?”

“I wanted to make sure you were really all right.”

“I am.”

Shepard’s brow furrows and he struggles.

“Are you ok?” I ask.

“I don’t think I can go into battle and not tell you...”

“I know,” I say, a tiny smile playing on my lips. And I do know.

“You know…”

“Yes.” I say, still smiling.

He smiles. “Okay, then.”

He looks into my eyes, as if to see if I really know what he means, but then he looks at me in a way I have only seen in my dreams.

My mind wanders to when we kissed and I feel a warm wave distil over me. The pleasure/pain in memory is what keeps us alive, the pleasure of remembering, the pain of the loss, and the hope of repetition of the good stuff someday. Well, I know I am fighting for species survival, nobly, but I am fighting for Shepard, selfishly. I want to survive… if only for him to look at me like that.

The touch of his fingers on my face sends a current though my body that I wasn’t quite prepared for. He gently strokes my cheek, cups it, and kisses me. I stand there like a paralysed moron, arms dangling, unmoving by my sides. He looks at me after the kiss, still caressing my face. When he kisses me again, I feel a familiar lust-unfurling, one I had tried to repress or at least silence. My arms seem to regain movement and they reach up and embrace him tightly. And yet I am still unwilling to completely let myself go, after everything, I know this scares Shepard. I have questions whirl winding in my mind; I am scared too. I sense my old nemesis doubt tickle at the recesses of thought.

I kiss him back, slowly at first. I can’t breathe. His hands are in my hair pulling me into him. I feel a sudden intoxication of hope; I’m drunk on possibility. It’s like there were only embers before where now a flame starts to burn. He kisses my neck and excitement thrums through my body. The passion in the kiss has the hunger of the starved and I realise, annoyingly, that this is moving too fast; I’m being swept away by Shepard.

I break off the kiss, look into his eyes and realise no words need to be said.

I cradle his face in my hands and kiss him, just once. He slips his hands underneath my shirt and helps me remove it. I kiss him, and then with trembling hands, help him out of his. I am shaking all over. This is everything I wanted and it scares me to death. Shepard looks at me for a moment, and then runs his hand from my shoulder down my arm, taking my hand. He pulls me closer, so we are touching. I feel the heat of his chest against mine, the roughness of where he is scarred and his residual heartbeat. He kisses me again, but this time it is slow, deliberate, and controlled. Everything is heightened in the moment, the scratchy stubble of our faces, the ambient warmth and the pure scent of him. We move over to the bed and quickly discard the rest of our clothes. Seeing him like this makes it real, I cannot repress this again but I do not care. I throw caution out of the airlock and dive into what I want. The now is all that matters to me. The world starts to soften, the moment becomes insular, and nothing else matters to me other than sharing this second and the next, with Shepard.

I wake with him in my arms, warm, safe in our own microcosm. I look at the time and know I will have to wake him shortly. But I wait. I wait because I don’t want it to end just yet.

I feel him move and he sits up. He looks over at me and smiles. The smile fills me up with warmth. He leans over and kisses me, then gets out of bed. The moment is ending.

We dress; we are coy with each other and kiss before we leave. But once out of my quarters, we are Major and Commander once again. I get that. It’s fine.

There are moments where I catch Shepard looking at me, he smiles and looks away. He surprises me; he is capable of just switching. I wish it was that easy for me, but it’s more of a suppression, the water under the surface tension, maybe.

The Cerberus base looms before us and we are ready. I know it is going to be hard and I can’t help wondering if using EDI is a mistake. If she turns on us, we are fucked. But I trust Shepard, and he has faith in her like he does all of his crew members, so I do not voice any concern. As it turns out, Shepard was right.

The mission is hard and we have to be unconventional, but we get through. It’s fine, right up until EDI points out data on the Lazarus project. It’s a shock to hear how far gone Shepard was and I can see that’s a shock to Shepard also.

Clinically brain dead? I can’t help wondering what that was like, the morbid and somewhat stupid part of me asks, “What was it like? I mean, if you remember…” Really, Kaidan, you’re asking Shepard what death was like? “Or… how do you feel?” I manage to recover. I am an idiot, this we already know.

“I’m still me, I doubt I’d be able to turn against Cerberus otherwise. I don’t remember anything. Maybe they really just fixed me, or maybe I’m just a high tech VI who thinks it’s Commander Shepard.” I hear the doubt, the fear that he’s never voiced, but that must have always been there.

“You’re real enough for me,” I say, meaning every word. I hope that he walks away from the console, but he doesn’t and selects another log entry. It’s apparent that the Illusive Man knew exactly how to manipulate Shepard into helping him.

“Every instinct I had told me not to trust Cerberus, but I needed their help so I played along.” I can hear him blaming himself, as I once did. I no longer feel that way.

“You were trying to protect humanity, you didn’t have a choice. He used the crew as a shield; you never saw what Cerberus really was.”

“Yeah, but I clearly didn’t ask enough questions at the time. Here we are now.”

“I think we would have been here whether you’d helped him or not. Those sorts of people are quite determined. They find a way.” Shepard nods and we move on.

It is the ultimate insult that the Illusive Man isn’t actually here. It’s as frustrating as hell to find out he’s gone. So has Kai Leng, but nobody is losing any sleep over that. The Catalyst is the Citadel and the Reapers near Earth, surrounding the Citadel. Nothing is ever easy is it?

So, we gather the fleet. There is no time left and all we can do is check and prepare.

My head is pounding, but it’s not the implant, it’s the adrenalin-saturated blood rushing through my system. The time for romance is gone; every part on my mind is focused on the upcoming mission. Nobody can sleep; they wander restlessly, prowling like a caged Lions. I stay by Shepard’s side, helping, getting info, checking, and double-checking everything. While we are busy, there is no time for thoughts mired in mortality.

The fleet coming together is a thing of beauty on so many levels. The engineering and skill of alien, synthetic and human ingenuity is something to behold. The ships ripple together like a shoal of fish, all separate but of one mind: defeat the Reapers. To see Geth working with Quarian, Krogan with Salarian and Turian,  is a historic moment. But no one has a chance to question the validity of this reality because Shepard has made it so. The cost is high and we haven’t finished borrowing yet, but it’s a debt we’ll pay as a galaxy united. This is Shepard’s legacy.

When Hackett boards the Normandy, the atmosphere of the ship becomes electric. The tipping point is reached, and I can see from the faces of the crew, determination, fear, but most of all, a belief that Shepard will get us there. I am surprised to see the same expression on Hackett’s face. He watches Shepard with quiet admiration and fear. Thing is, he knows as I do, Shepard will not stop, not for anyone or anything. There is darkness to Shepard, but there is also light.

Then, as I knew it would, time runs out and we stand on the precipice of change.

The fleet moves on Earth and into the chaotic fray. As the fleet engages, they fire on the Reapers. It is beautiful and terrible, streaks of light flowing and hitting the Reapers, creating blooms of spectacular brightness in the dark.

I sit in the shuttle feeling every bump, hearing every breath, and feeling every adrenalin soaked beat of my heart. I’m no novice soldier, but my fear is real. I wish I could say there was some trick to keeping it all in check, but there isn’t. Having no fear isn’t the answer because then there’s nothing to motivate you to survive. You just have to keep it under control as best you can. And if you are lucky you’ll come out alive. If you’re luckier still, so will your comrades.

The shuttle hits the ground and we are thrown into pandemonium. I run and gun, strafing to cover next to Shepard, just in front of Garrus. The air is cold and crisp; there is barely any light. Shepard decides that we need to take out the Hades cannon, so that’s what we aim to do. As I cut down the hoard in my path, sweating and struggling to breathe in the cold air, I wonder what wit decided the name for those cannons. I chuckle; it amuses me. Garrus looks at me as though I am mad and I explain, over bursts of gunfire as we move forward, the meaning. Why not just call it the death cannon? He says. Of course, it is a form of hysteria, us talking as if we were having a chat over lunch, rather than shouting over the sounds of war. But I envy the man… the being, that can get through this without a scar.

As the fighting increases and we get overrun, I feel a burning inside. I’m so totally focused, everything is sharp, and my biotic’s respond in kind. I don’t think too hard about my actions, I aim, I shoot. Just as I’m starting to think there are too many, a shuttle appears and we manage to get out.

It’s not until I see Anderson, do I realise what I’ve walked into. I sit quietly listening to the man greet Shepard. The first thing I notice about him is how he has aged. He looks weary and has lost a lot of weight. I can’t imagine what he has been through here, fighting to survive every day. I don’t want to think about how much he has seen since I left, but a few horrific things pop in there anyway. There’s no polite way to say, you look like hell, but he does. His eyes, however, tell a different story, they shine with pleasure at the sight of Shepard. Renewed hope is a beautiful thing to see on a man’s face.

We land and disembark. I briefly explore the surroundings as Shepard speaks to Anderson. I stand and watch the men here and see the same expressions on their faces. They watch Shepard; he is the focus of attention. It is also plain to see how much these people respect Anderson.

I see the human reactions to the aliens in their midst. They are fearful, but they’ve been living on the edge of survival for so long, you can’t blame them for being apprehensive. I watch Garrus work a small group, the combination of his humour and charm, soon have people smiling. He puts them as ease. The ease Garrus creates is exactly why he is such a great friend and a deadly fighter; you just don’t see him coming. There is dark in him, but Shepard’s influence seems to have steered him on a better path.

I watch the ripple of anticipation ride out into the camp. Krogan, Turian, Geth, Quarian, Salarian, Asari and Human, together battling for their species existence. Shepard did this; he herded the galaxy together and gave us a chance. A chance is all we need and that palpable faith is present in almost every face, no matter the race. The Illusive man was right about Shepard being an icon; he was wrong in thinking that he could control him. In a way, he gave us the best weapon Cerberus has ever been responsible for: hope.

As I stand there, I realise I’ve avoided thinking about this instance. He’s not mine, or the Alliance’s, he’s the Galaxy’s. What I have are moments and memories. He gave me hope; I have that at least.

Shepard walks towards me and I don’t care for the look on his face. I don’t see hope, I don’t see fear. I see hardness, a glimpse into the gloom we all know is there, but ignore. He is angry, but it is the slow furnace in which hate resides, a hate for the Reapers. The moment he sees me, the expression changes, softens.

“Hey, Kaiden.”

“Hey, there you are.”

“Are you ready?”

“Absolutely, ready for anything, bring it on.”

“And Biotics division? Your students?”

“More than ready, eager in fact. That’s youth for you. We’re old soldiers, Shepard.”

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

“Brothers in arms, we know the score… we know this is goodbye.”

“Yeah, we know the score.”

 “How are you doing… scared?”

“Yes, of course, but I’ve got these bastards in my sights, Kaiden, it’s them that should be afraid of me.” There’s that darkness again.

I laugh, can’t help it, “Well, you’re right about that.”

“When this is over I’m going to be waiting for you. You better show up.” His voice waivers ever so slightly, his eyes show the fear.

“Don’t get me wrong,” I say, “I’m going to fight like hell for the chance to hold you again.” And I will.

“So… take care, Major.” He tries to leave being Commander Shepard, but I cannot take that and reach for him before he leaves. We kiss, but it’s not sweet. It’s filled with fear for him, for me.

I can barely speak; the lump in my throat is just about keeping a lid on things. “Stay safe,” I say looking away. I can feel myself coming apart; I can’t bear to watch him walk away.

***

As I run, I realise I’m not running toward the Reaper, or the beam leading to the Citadel, I am following Shepard. I finally understand as I watch the Reaper cut Shepard down in flames. I know his scream will be frequenting my dreams, assuming I get to sleep again. The call goes out to retreat, so we do. I drag myself back up the slope, past the broken bodies of people I’d spoken to minutes ago. I don’t think civilians realise the quickness of death and war, those who kill and are killed. Of course, they aren’t all dead, some are dying. I see a Krogan put a few rounds in a couple of soldiers as we run past them, writhing in agony. I tell you what… if it were me on the ground I would have seen that Krogan as an Angel of fucking mercy.

I want to turn around.

I get back to the encampment and see the utter hopelessness, despair. We’ve failed. We reinforce our position, get ready for the next wave. And then laughter, delight, somebody is whooping with excitement. I walk up to the growing crowd of men, lit up like it’s Christmas.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“They made it!” The guy is jumping about.

I feel a glimmer of something, “Who made it?”

“They came through on the comms; Shepard and Anderson made it onto the Citadel.”

“Are we still tracking their comms?” I feel excited, hopeful.

“Intermittent, but they are alive!” I smile, but then the smile falters as I remember Shepard being cut down.

“Are you sure it’s them?”

“Yup, frequency ID’ed, it’s definitely them.”

The hope rekindles and I return to holding off the hoard with a new vigour.

I can imagine the entire western hemisphere of Earth looking up as they heard the explosion of the Citadel.

As I watch the burning shards of the Citadel plummet down to Earth, I realise I’ve had the second chance I wished for and I didn’t waste it. I’ve been standing in a similar position before, regretting the things I hadn’t done. Now, I regret nothing.

He’s dead, really dead this time. I don’t need to ask if Shepard or Anderson made it out.

There is cheering all around me, people laughing and crying with relief. We watch as the Reapers teeter and fall.

But he is dead.

We are one people, standing together, Krogan, Turian, Asari… it doesn’t matter because we survived.

I throw up. It’s the shock. Mentally, I know my mind is catching up with fighting for my existence. I’m trembling. You’d think someone with my experience wouldn’t be affected like this, but that’s just fantasy, everyone is susceptible to shock. I watch the dancing and the celebrating, the pure fucking relief at not dying. I’m not the only one sitting on the floor.

He knew.

He knew what this would cost me. He expected to die. He wanted to spare me this, if I survived. God, I was so cavalier. I kept telling him the now was all that mattered, and it was at the time. But he knew better and I ignored him. I heave again, it’s dry, nothing left to bring up; I’m empty. Someone passes a bottle of alcohol around and I refuse it. I doubt it would stay down anyway. I’m waiting for the tears, but they don’t come.

I get up and move around. There’s still wounded to attend to and no way of knowing if the hordes of creatures the Reaper’s brought with them are destroyed as well.

I pick up my gun. I see I am not alone with that thought, as Major Coates also starts to calm things down and get the men back on track. He nods at me, grateful.

I don’t know at this point we’re all stranded on Earth and it’s environs. Or that hundreds of angry aliens whose last wish is to see their home world again are also stuck here. I think the worst of it must be behind me and I envy that. Survival is not something that comes and goes, it’s every day, every hour.

***

The motes of dust cascade down onto the dead, lit by rays of daylight, adding a sparkle to the holocaust of human remains. The cost of war, decaying but still, peaceful and at rest. Humanity has seen such scenes before, on many a blood sodden field.

A puff of dust and debris disturbs the solemn calm; a cough shatters the silence. A hand reaches out, burnt and shaking, pulling the rubble away. The seared remnants of armour fused in places to the skin, denote a letter and a number, N7. And in the darkness, there is light…


End file.
